From Guardsman, to Greatness
by Snake Of The West
Summary: No one ever expected much from Michal Disponette. A career in the guard, and a glorious bloody death in service of the emperor. But then, expectations have a way of being broken.
1. Chapter 1

"For the Emperor" came the cry, accompanied by the pounding of thousands of feet as the Men and Women of the 129th Algolian Infantry as they rose from their trenches, bayonets gleaming in the sunlight, and charged, their Lasguns spitting bolts of deadly light towards the rebellious traitors they fought.

Captain Hansen gave a continuous stream of orders to his Vox-Man, sending his platoons left right and centre. His 4th company was on the right flank of the attack, tasked with taking out the traitors Artillery and Tec Centre, which combined, had lead to mounting casualties in the 129th. This push was only able to be made, due to the barrage of Basilisk Shells which had been raining down on the Traitors fortifications for the past 15 hours. "Lieutenant Hargrove Is to take 2nd platoon to the Pillbox emplacement to the northeast, intelligence reports artillery spotters at that location."

200 meters away, A private was straining to hear the orders coming over the Vox, against the thunderous roar of Heavy Bolters, the Pounding whistle of mortar shells, and the zip of las bolts flying through the air around him. "Lieutenant!", He shouted, drawing the attention of his superior. "Orders are to take the Pilbox to the northwest. Enemy spotters present!"

" Confirmed Private. All sergeants!", Shouted Lieutenant Hargrove", as he jammed down the activation stud of his helmet mounted Vox, "Advance to the north west. Target: Pill Box containing artillery spotters. Squad 2 and 4 pattern theta advance, Bring melta-guns to the front. Squads 3, 5 and 6 , alternating covering fire as we advance.", Turning to face the sergeant of his own command team, Squad 1, he continued the barking orders. "Squad 1 will advance along our own left flank and catch any counter attack before it reaches the assault teams.". Receiving affirmatives from the squad sergeants, shouted the cry of his regiment. "For Algolis, Imperium and Emperor. CHARGE!"

And those orders, were how Specialist Michal Disponette found himself, lasgun in hand, as he watched the front wall of the pill Pill box being atomized, by his friend, Clementina Lombardino or Clem as they called her, before he stepped into the breach she had made and tossed in a frag grenade. The dull crump of the frag signaled his moment to charge into the breach the melta had made, his Lasgun raised, ready to deliver the Emperor's justice to any who fell into his sights. All that greeted him was a mess of pulped bodies, dressed smountering uniforms. "Clear!", he shouted as he stormed inside, followed closely by the rest of his squad.

As they took up positions at the rear entrance of the bunker, the Lieutenant and the rest of his command team stormed in behind them. "Well done 4th squad, he shouted, waving squad 3 through behind him". They dashed past , and at the orders of their sergeant, took up positions outside the entrance, diggin in to the already prepared breastwork. " 5th and 6th squads, your have rear security", Said Hargrove, turning to his Vox-man to relay their situation to command.

Michal sighed, and leant back against the wall, tugging off his helmet and scratching at the fuzz which constituted his hair. "Whats the matter Disponette?", cajoled Clem. "Tired out already?".

"Well we can't all be endless streams of energy like you", he shot back. "Besides, all you've done is melt a bit of ferrocrete." Clem always seemed to be bouncing around the battlefield, vaporising enemies, tanks and fortifications with her "Baby" of death. She was the squads assault specialist, and bearing seemingly infinite amounts of frag, and krak grenades, along side her Meltagun, all who stood against her died.

A thunderous bellowing voice slammed them both out of their verbal sparring. "Disponette! Get your forsaken useless ass off the floor, and move this stubber to the rear fortifications to support 3rd squad if they need it!".

"Yes Sergeant!", he bellowed, like a good soldier. Examining the heavy weapon, he tugged it off its mountings, and hefted its weight over his shoulder. "Give me a hand here Clem", he said, kicking the ammo cans that sat next to the Sutbber's mounting. Shouldering her meltagun, the fiery tempered guardswoman hefted a pair of ammo tins, and followed him outside. In the yellow glare of the planets twin suns, the pain squinted at the fortifications 3rd squad occupied. They occupied a series of trenches, dug to serve as what appeared to be a field medic station. Boxes of medical equipment had been shoved aside to make firing positions for the guard who occupied it now. "Left flank Clem"? Asked Michal, seeing a raised hill which would allow them to cover the open terrain leading up to the fortification line. Sensing her approval, he moved in a low crouch, trying to avoid showing himself to the enemy should they be watching.

Pulling down the attached bipod, he lay down behind the weapon, and allowed Clem to feed in a belt of gleaming brass cartridges, racking the slide, and releasing it with a satisfying, clang. Activating his microbead, he reported that their covering position was ready to his sergeant, moments before all hell broke loose. Three guardsman from 3rd squad toppled over without a sound, "SNIPERS!", bellowed their sergeant, shoving his men into cover, before he himself gave a wet gurgle, and topples over, his face a charred mess, the clear sign of a high powered Las-blast. The effects of the shooting finally started to register in Michal's brain, and he swung the barrel of the stubber around, searching desperately for the source of the shooting.

"What the frag is going on out here Sergeant!"", bellowed Lieutenant Hargrove, his command squad following him out of the pillbox.

A monumental cloud of dread filled his heart, and his shouted warning dies on his lips. Michal simply watched as his Lieutenant, and his retinue exploded where they stood, the thunderclap of high explosives reaching his ears a moment later. A mortar round had been fired on their position, sending Hargrove and his command squad to the emperor's side with its vicious explosion. Gore flew through the air, the intestines, blood, bone and skin of 10 men being sent every which way, splattering across the ground, walls and surrounding the area.

Clem let out a shriek of horror as she was doused in a length of still warm intestines, covering up Michal's own cry of fear as he was sprayed with his own covering of guts and blood.

And then the screaming began. A long distant howl went up across the plain, the sound of maniacs laughing, as the gates of the distant Tec-centre opened, and a stream of insanity poured forth. Hundreds upon hundreds of traitors screamed in heathen tongues as they charged, their words reverberating in Michal's mind like a gong. Milling about in confusion, the 3rd squad peaked their heads over the tops of the trenches, just as hurriedly hiding themselves again when they saw the approaching horde. "This is Disponette! Lieutenant Hargrove and command squad are down. Enemy forces approaching! Request orders!", he roared into his microbead as a torrent of sweat threatened to break and run down his face.

The calming voice of his grizzled sergeant came over the Vox. As the senior NCO left alive, control of the remains of 2nd platoon fell to him. "The lieutenants last orders to us were to hold this position at all costs. I'm bringing up 2nd, 5th and 6th squads to reinforce the position. Yourself and Trooper Lombardino will act as heavy support. the rest of 4th squad will act as a mobile reserve. Use your discretion, and open fire at maximum effective range." Betraying no sense of fear, the Veteran NCO's voice installed a fierce confidence into the men he spoke to, a battle hardened soldier of the God emperor.

"Yes Sir!" came the triumphant bellow, as Guard began streaming from the Pillbox, the soldiers of 2nd 5th and 6th squads tearing into the relative safety of the trenches, lines of guardsman standing in perfect firing positions. The air filled with a mechanical whine, as they thumbed the activation studs of their lasguns, the power packs preparing to send their lethal shots into the rabble of traitors. "Stand firm!", came the rallying cry from squad 2's Sergeant. "Remember your duty to the Emperor. You swore an oath to defend his imperium, even unto your deaths! And by the throne, you shall do your duty. On my mark!". A heartbeat passed, the heathen screeching of the charging enemy growing louder, before the command was given.

"FIRE!"


	2. Annihilation

The shining brass spun slowly through the air, sunlight glinting with a majestic sparkle as it smoked with remnants of fired propellant. The bullets flew through the air, small sonic booms trailing in their wake, distorting the air alongside the blasts of light which blasted across the shattered plains. And the blood flowed freely as bullets and las blasts eviscerated human bodies, the sheer volume of fire turning them into a canvas of death.

For now.

Fingers pumped triggers till they squealed with the strain, and barrels sent shots straight till they burned like the sun. And still the crowd of traitors charged. Power packs were dropped, and fresh ones slammed home, and the ritual continued again, and again. As Clem crawled on her stomach to the pill box to drag up more ammunition cans, Michal yanked the charging handle, and let fly with another punishing volley of lead, the stubber belching a foot long tongue of fire as it sang its deadly melody. But regardless of how much fire the remnants of the platoon poured out, the crowd of traitors kept charging. As they neared the one hundred and fifty meters ranging mark, the call went up for the guardsman to switch their weapons to automatic fire, and soon instead of a snapping crackle, the air was simply buzzing.

From his elevated position Michal could see that they were barely making a dent in the forces still streaming from the Tec plant. The chanting traitors just keep coming, their voices spouting what Michal could only imagine were dark prayers to a false god. They kept ringing in his head, harsh whispers bounding around. Shaking his head at their influence, he refocused, and resumed his firing. The stubber did a fantastic job of halting the enemy forces in their tracks, but even such an embodiment of the Emperors wrath could only hold back the storm for a finite time. The enemy kept creeping closer and closer, now starting to return the platoons fire with their own auto weapons. The sniper who had taken out so many troopers in the beginning had disappeared "Frag knows where", though Michal. He couldn't care less. No sniper, and no mortars made his job easier. But just then, the Emperor's wrath ran out, and the rolling tide of chanting heretics surged forwards.

The barrel of Michal's stubber, warped by the heat of thousands of rounds, exploded, shards of steaming hot metal scything through the air in a million directions. Michal smeared his face into the dirt, desperately trying to avoid the deadly splinters. He failed. A shard of metal as big as his finder lodged itself into his shoulder, cementing itself under his collar bone. For a brief moment, he thought nothing of it, feeling amear sting. But a moment later, a fire, as hot as a plasma reactor's core ignited in his shoulder, and sent him slithering on the ground in pain. Blinded with pain, he managed to choke out a few words over the vox, trying not to vomit as his blood soaked his uniform. "Clem, i'm hit. Need help" he managed to say, before his voice left him, and he hurled what little his stomach contained over the remains of the stubber. "On my wa Hughh…" was the only fragment of message he received in return. Recalling his training sergeants brutal teaching methods, he managed to drag the small medkit out of his belt, and ripped the field dressing from its case. Jamming it against the flowing wound, he tied it off as tightly as he could. "Clem"?, he shouted out, not bothering to use his Vox, thinking she would be close enough to hear him by now. "CLEM!?" He repeated. Grunting with effort and pain, he heaved himself up onto an elbow, and peaked across the knoll he was on. And promptly collapsed once more at the sight. Clem was sprawled on her side a dozen meters away, unmoving. The only thing that told him it was Clem he was looking at was the meltagun across her back. She had no other identifying features anymore. All that remained above her shoulders was the ragged stump of her neck, shards of her spinal column and arteries poking out, the power of her death shot obliterating her head entirely. His limbs trembling, He shakily activated him Vox, and reported to his sergeant, "Stubber position is down sir. Shooter is injured, but mobile. Loader is…"

"Loader is what Specialist?!", shouted his sergeant, his voice laced with fury as he fired his own lasgun at the rapidly approaching horde".

"Dead sir. Clem is dead."

"Copy that Disponette. Maintain position and provide marksman fire. Fourth Squad has picked out some of the traitors who might be field leaders".

"Yes sir". He replied, Hauling his lasgun back to his side, he thumbed his own safety catch and let the powerpack warm for a moment, before dragging it back to his seated the stock of his gun snugly against his left shoulder, thanking the emperor he was able to shoot off both sides of his body. Squinting down the iron sights, he swept his gun across the lines assaulting his platoon.

He managed to pick out a roughly ornamented man, carrying a chainsword and auto pistol, waving his arms, almost driving the men around his forwards. "Goodnight", whispered Michal, squeezing the trigger. His gun gave its tiny kickback, the charge pack cycled, and a ruby red bolt of solid light sped through the air. The man toppled over, his head a charred mess. Grinning to himself, he shifted the helmet on his head, and keep sweeping his sights over the mass, which kept creeping closer and closer now that the stubber had been destroyed.

"They're getting more aggressive" he realized, noticing a small group of heretics who made a sudden break for the line of guardsman. They managed to get within 20 metres before being torn apart in a hail of lasfire. This pattern continued for some time, the "suicide" squads of attackers charging, and dieing, paving the way for the rolling crowd of the main force to slowly advance, using the bodys of the dead that carpeted the plains as cover. Moving to within 50 meters of the line of guardsman, they suddenly stopped their chanting, which had been ringing through the air since the start of the engagement. This also caused a momentary stoppage of the fire that the platoon was pouring out, as guardsmen looked at each other nervously before their sergeants bellowed the command to keep firing.

All Michael could do in this instant was stare helplessly as the crowd of maniacs popped a series of signal flares amid their lines, flares which showed their locations to artillery observers. Just as quickly as the flares had been lit, a huge amount of puff of smoke darkened the air above the tec complex in the distance, filling the air with a shrill scream as the first artillery batteries opened fire.

Like the tales of the gods of old raining down their wrath on the worlds they watched over, the shells struck. Enormous craters were dug, ears were shattered by the supersonic shriek of the shells dropping earthwards, and bodies torn destroyed beyond recognition by the explosions.

And slowly, the line of death began to advance away from the suicidal mass of heretics who had lit the flares, creeping slowly towards his platoon's location. And the screaming began again, audible even above the thunderous racket of the shells. The traitors screamed praises to the chaos gods, and added their own guns to the destruction once again. The creeping barrage, coupled with the enemy fire left the Michal's platoon with one option.

Death

If they stood their ground and fought, the artillery would kill them. And if they broke and ran, they would be shot in the back by the heretics guns. And if Michal knew it, then his sergeant knew it. Which was why he was currently bellowing a demand for every gun battery and mortar team to turn its fire on the tec complex which was bombarding them. And he was soundly told that his breach was not a priority, and to Hold the line as all costs. "MISERABLE FRAGGERS!", he screamed, tossing the vox handset back to the guardsman it belonged to, and firing incoherently into the dust storm kicked up by the artillery. Kicking the wall of the trench, he ducked down, and tore the last power pack from his belt kit, and slammed it into place, determined to carry out the Emperor's work till the last breath left his body. and being a true leader of men, he knew that his squad would follow his order to the letter. Baring one of them, they would all fight, and die this day. Noticing some of them guardsman in the trench around him fixing their bayonets, he realized that he was one of the only ones still firing, the other having exhausted their ammunition.

Michel watched helplessly from his position on the small hill, not 50 meters away from his sergeant, unable to aid his fellow warriors in any way. As the first wave of shells reached the trench, he shouted an oath to the God Emperor, and prayed for forgiveness for failing to defend his brothers. As his view of the trench was obscured by the detonating artillery, Michal watched the over pressure wave race towards him, and felt its impact for a split second, before it tossed him through the air like a rag doll, and he knew no more.


	3. Survival

"Second...Report in…..Hargrove!...Copy ordr…?"

The shockingly loud words were replaced with harsh static which buzzed incessantly in Michal's ears, audible even over the shrill shrieks of the heretics that swarmed over his platoon's former positions.

Cracking open his watering eyes, he glimpsed a small square of blue sky above him, slightly obscured by the pollutants, and gun smoke that filled the air. His whole body felt like it was one raging inferno, spikes of pure agony exploding up and down his battered limbs and torso. Oblivious to the risk he created himself, he rolled onto his stomach, pushed himself onto all fours, and proceeded to vomit blood and bile onto the ground in front of him.

Groaning with pain as he looked up, Michal struggled to piece together the sights that greeted his eyes. The stubber still sat in front of him with its barrel shattered. Dimly to his right he saw the bunker his platoon had been sent to neutralize was still intact, along with the few remains of Lieutenant Hargrove's Command squad. And there, a small glint among the death and destruction, was the still intact melta gun that Clem had carried. The relentless training that had been given to him rung in his mind, forcing him to gather any weapon he could. Desperately , he crawled, slithering his body over the ground towards Clem's desecrated body, and her meltagun, the shouts, chanting, and cries of the traitors scum they fought growing ever closer.

His fingers brushed the gore covered casing of Clem's meltagun, his friends warm sticky lifeblood adhering to his own body as his dragged the weapon off her broken form. "I'm sorry Clem. I tried. " he spluttered with his own bloodied lips, laying a hand on her. Looking around as much as he was able, he spied the bunker doorway not a handfull of metres away, and with an oath to the God Emperor, he half crawled, half shambled his way to its relative safety, turning to look back at the heretics swarming towards his former support position. Shuddering, he crouched down in the bunker, granted a momentary respite from the coming danger.

"_When entering battle, The imperial guardsman will have his weapon fully charged, and and ready in all respects to dispense death to the enemies of mankind._"

His breath coming in short stuttering bursts, he threw his untrained eye over its workings, trying to catch a glimpse of some kind of fuel gauge or power meter. Grasping what seemed to be the fuel tank for the weapon, he found a small simple indicator, displaying the number 6, from which he gathered he had 6 shots left before he ran out of ammunition.

"_Should the Guardsman find himself surrounded, he shall fight till the last breath of air leaves his body, Until his ammunition is expended, and when he does die, it shall be with a prayer to the God-Emperor on his lips" _

And as the tenets of _The Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer _demanded, he began to mumble out his final prayer.

"Though he no longer walks with us, his undying soul sees all who fight for him and gives them strength".

He flicked the knob on the fuel tank, priming the melta gun for use.

"Through the fires of war, and the depths of heresy, his light shines brightly, guiding us on the path he has set us in life"

The melta made its way to rest across his chest, his hands gripping its charred holds tightly, finger resting on the trigger.

"No death of the faithful shall be in vain, for by their sacrifice, they hold true to his imperium. Death in service of the Emperor, is the most noble death a citizen can ask for."

The melta gun was raised, its stock seated into his shoulder, the barrel sweeping around to poke out of the doorway.

"From the darkness, and the tempest, Emperor deliver me to your side". He finished, his mind suddenly still, before the world shattered once again. The heretics advancing on the bunker let out a screaming howl as the Buzz of high powered Hotshot Lasguns suddenly filled the air, blasts of ruby red light searing into their flesh.

With their Grav-Chutes screaming, two squads of black and red clad Storm Troopers smashed into the ground, Hotshot Lasguns flashing continuously, decimating the heretic horde in its tracks.

Fanning out, the stormtroopers continues their unrestrained, yet disciplined fire into the crowd of heretics, a mere 20 of them holding off the hundreds strong horde. Dumbstruck, Michal watched their expertly executed maneuvers, still crouched with his taken melta gun poised ready to fire. With a start, he pulled the trigger, shocked by the sudden grenade blast close by, the beam tearing into the ground as his arm spasmed.

"I was unaware that the ground was our enemy", came a voice from behind him, cool, clear, and strident amidst the chaos outside. Spinning around, and unceremoniously losing his balance, Michal thumped onto the ground on his butt.

"Forgive me for defending the poor guardsman sir, but i think you took him by surprise", came a second voice, more softly than the first, but still holding all the same authority.

Standing just inside the huge hole that his platoon had blasted into the front wall of the bunker, was a pair of people one dressed in ornate, yet fully functional gold inlaid armour, the other in Carapace armour. The person on the left of the pair, a man, stood tall, at least 6'5, and was built like a small Ogryn, Albeit, one which actually looked intelligent. Clenched in a gauntleted hand was a massive, silver plated storm bolter, its drum feed gleaming in shimmering light given off by his power sword, held at the low ready position in their other hand. Flowing patterns of golden script wove their way over the entirety of his armour, almost seeming to shimmer with unnatural power. The face that rose from the collared chest piece was gravely drawn, a frown creasing his noble brow. A tightly cropped head of Greying hair covered his skull. And finally, and perhaps the thing that filled Michal with the greatest fear, was a small I shaped insignia on the man's armour.

"_Oh frag, no, no! Not them, please in the Emperor's name not them", _he thought desperately to himself, remembering the stories some of the veterans had told him round the fires at night.

The second person wore a helmet similar to the Sabbat pattern worn by the Adepta Sororitas, again with the obsidion black I signature in the middle of the helmets forehead. She, and yes, the second person was very clearly a female, was clad in silvery grey Carapace armour, head to toe, but despite this, her figure defined her from her counterpart whom she stood considerably shorter than. She bore none of the gold inlays on her armour, and bore a simple officers power sword, and laspistol, along with all the standard equipment of a stormtrooper, from grenades, to an Auspex.

"Who….Wh...Who are you?", stuttered out Michal, pointing the melta gun at the pair, its barrel quivering as a display of his fear.

The frown on the man deepend at his question, dark brown eyes seeming to bore into Michal's head with the intensity of his gaze

"We? Suffice yourself with knowing, we are the ones who command the troops outside, who are now saving your life", came the voice once again.

"You...Those are your stormtroopers?", asked Michal, voice still shaking, the meltagun becoming heavy in his arms.

"Sir, forgive me for speaking out of turn, but are you sure of your choice? He seems far too fragile to me", came the sudden words of the woman Michal took to be the man's subordinate.

"Yes Lisle", replied the man, glancing at her for a moment. "Thus spoke the Emperor's Tarot. And you have seen his abilities for yourself. Now, silence." he commanded.

Unnoticed by Michal, wrapped up in his fear as he was, the sounds of hell gun fire had ceased outside the bunker, and a silent, masked stormtrooper stood in the doorway now.

Glancing at this man, the person in the Gold armor gave a simple command.

"Take him. We leave now".

Those were the last words Michal heard him speak, and for the second time in less than 20 minutes, Michal was smashed into unconsciousness by the stormtroopers hotshot lasgun.

* * *

**Hello once again everyone. **

**I do apologize for the enormous lag between updates to this story, and my others. Between moving house, and concluding Uni for the year, I haven't had much time for writing. But thank you for sticking with me through all of it. **

**So enjoy Guardsman to greatness chapter 3, and i'll see you folks soon. **

**~Snake of the West**


	4. Update

Hello once more Ladies and Gentlemen. And whoever else might be reading this.

I know its been months since any updates have come out, and I am sorry for that. University has finally finished up for the year, so I have a whole load of writing to do, and quite a bit that's already done as well!

A Flame in the Darkness, Recon Team Two, From Guardsman to Greatness, and Of Man and Machine all have updates ready(And in some cases, 3 or 4 updates, not just 1).

I also have about 3 new stories planned out, and drafted ready to go, covering things from Red Vs Blue, Warhammer High(Look it up on 1d4chan and enjoy the fluffiness.)and the Eragon/Inheritance cycle.

I'm sure there's more, but you know me, I only tell you half the story.

Now!, the less good bit. The laptop I use to do my writing has developed a "Error during start up", (Or whatever the hell that means), so currently, all that writing is stuck on the hard drive of the currently broken down laptop. And that included not only my fanfiction, but also all my university work. Thank god I've already submitted my assignments though, and that my Uni work is backed up.

So then...Yeah. That's about 1-200,000 words of fanfiction possibly down the drain. Anyway, getting past all the moping, long story short, until I get my computer fixed, or am able to rip the filed off the hard drive, all stories are on Hold.

That wasn't too hard to say now was it?

And in addition to all of that, can I please just say, Thank you so very much to everyone who reads my work. I'm glad you like it, and hope you continue to read and enjoy it in the future.

Please anyone, feel free to send me comments, suggestions, thoughts, likes, dislikes(Although I'll say, don't be an asshat, please. )

So, until I either get really creative and re write the 200,000 words from memory, or get smart and just fix the dammed computer, Thank You, and Goodnight.

~Snake of the West


	5. Hiatus

Hi all.

So, yeah. Long story short, my writing motivation has pretty much dried up to nill this year, hence the long absense from all my currently published works.

I am sorry to all of you who have followed my stories, and were probably expecting updates, but alas, i'm going to have to dissapoint you all.

Should you have any questions about the paths my stories will(If i ever restart any of them again)/Would have taken, please feel free to Pm me, and i'll happily send you a short sumary.

But as always, thank you to all who have read, reviewed, or followed my works.

See you on the other side.

~Snake Of The West


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